


Slavebound by an Incubus

by AMT149



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Bottom Draco, Dark Character, M/M, Master/Slave, Mythical Beings & Creatures, Top Harry, incubus
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-09-06
Updated: 2011-09-06
Packaged: 2017-10-25 14:21:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,443
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/271243
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AMT149/pseuds/AMT149
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry Potter is an incubus. Evil and unmerciful, he tries to take Draco for his own. After the first time, Draco is disgusted with himself, for not only does he wants it, he needs it. Dark!Fic</p><p>Translated to Spanish <a href="http://laslagrimasdelfenix.forumfree.it/?t=70239567">HERE</a></p>
            </blockquote>





	Slavebound by an Incubus

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Scifinerd92](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=Scifinerd92).



> Disclaimer: The characters, settings, etc all belong to JKR, Warner Bros, etc. The general storyline and quotes belong to SciFiNerd92.
> 
> Warnings (contains spoilers): This is a Dark!Fic and is rated NC-17. Contains Boy on Boy (Slash), evil!Harry, Incubus!Harry, Slave/Master Relationship, Slightly Insane!Draco, Rape, Sexual Content. Also, this does not have a happy ending. This is a fanfic based off of a fanvideo (see A/N at end). They can both stand alone, but they flow better together.

**Slavebound by an Incubus**

**~x~**

_“Medieval legend claims that incubus demons sexually prey on human beings, generally during the night when the victim is sleeping.”_

xXxXxXx

 

Harry Potter was an incubus.

He had found out about his hidden incubus blood when it was triggered into existence by the intense magic when he had killed Voldemort. Apparently his father’s blood wasn’t as pure as his ancestors had thought. He had much more powerful senses and new magic now, after his transformation — but it hadn’t made much of a difference to Harry over the summer. None of the Weasley’ caught his attention enough to risk getting found out. You see, no one knew he was an incubus.

Now, back at school for his eighth year, there was a much smaller risk of being found out. He was still Saint Harry Potter, full of all that was light and defeater of evil in the eyes of many. Harry laughed.  _If they only knew_ , he had thought. The incubus in him would force sex upon his classmates while they slept and he didn’t mind. It mattered not to him that it gave them nightmares and left them drained of their magic. Their terror gave him pleasure and energy in return so he never cared.

None of his classmates could stand against him. He trapped them under him until they couldn’t breathe while he took them. And if they didn’t? He exerted a little seduction and power in the nightmares he gave them and they succumbed to him easily. The dreams were worse than rape, one could say. The sex was in the mind of the victim, brining forth terror and fear from deep inside. Mental rape, that’s what it was. And the methods made no difference to Harry. He was never interested in why his victims caught his attention or what happened to them. He attacked them merely because their terror thrilled him — excited him, even. Their terror was all the same, however, and it was forcing Harry to run through victims rather quickly. All of them rather bored him after the first attack.

Well, all except one. All except tonight’s victim.

It was one of those nights where Harry slept in his four-poster. Those nights became rather frequent recently, as he had already attacked half the school and the rumours flying about became a danger to his discovery. However McGonagall, as headmistress, didn’t have any evidence to prove an incubus attack, aside from the memories of the students. And _those_  consisted of terror and fear and every horrible detail of the experience, except one little part. No one knew who the incubus was.

Except Harry

And of course no one suspected the Gryffindor Golden Boy, of course, but people were on guard now; Harry wasn’t tempted to risk getting recognized by showing his incubus self in the presence of a conscious human. At least, not until Harry’s incubus senses woke him. Those were the senses that told him who his next target was going to be. They had never been this strong before; for some reason, they were pushing him to torture Draco Malfoy like no other.

He let the incubus take over him, accelerating his senses. He could feel Malfoy sleeping peacefully, calmly and oh, how he wanted to change that. He wanted to make Malfoy scream, only he wouldn’t have any breath left to scream, would he? Grinning in anticipation, Harry pulled out his Marauders Map and made his way down to the dungeons. He stood in front of the same stone wall Malfoy himself had brought him to in second year. Next to his name on the map was a tiny speech bubble.

“Recuperare,” Harry smiled as he said the password, gliding into the eerie green common room once the wall slid away.

He instinctively swept down a hallway into what must have been Malfoy’s dorm. He noticed that all of Malfoy’s housemates had their curtains drawn. Even Harry’s own roommates, who had always left their curtains open, closed them when the rumours broke out that the incubus attacked males as well as females. He smirked. As if curtains could keep him out.

Harry felt the incubus pull him to one of the four-posters as if dragged by a magnet. Yes, there he was: Draco Malfoy, lying still for Harry to play with. Malfoy must not have believed the rumours; he slept naked, not even providing the trouble of removing clothes. Oh, how he would regret underestimating an incubus. He would teach Malfoy to fear him; to shake with terror when he realized how much easier he made it for Harry and to feel disgusted at himself for aiding to his own rape. A fitting revenge for all Malfoy had ever done to him.

“Such a nice little toy,” he whispered, pressing a hand down on Malfoy’s bare chest. It was a soft movement but the pressure woke Malfoy up. Grey eyes flew open in horror and focused on the incubus. The blond began to break out in a cold sweat, trembling. He opened his mouth but didn’t — _couldn’t_ — make a noise. Harry grinned wickedly and pulled the silken covers back. 

~x~ 

Draco was terrified and he couldn’t breathe. He had woken up from his dreamless sleep when he felt as if an iron blanket was dropped on top of him. He forced open his eyes and the grey orbs locked onto the evil face of an incubus. Oh god,  _the_  incubus. He had called his friends paranoid when they went to bed wearing thick layers; he had scoffed when Pansy warned him the incubus attacked men as well as women, unlike the ones in legends and books; he had cast a silencing charm around his bed so he couldn’t hear his friends’ scared whining. Now his own stupidity would be his undoing.

The incubus was deathly pale with black holes for eyes. His lips were the colour of blood and his hair was as dark as a devil’s heart. If it was a student, like the rumours said, Draco couldn’t tell. This  _thing_  was unrecognizable.

Oh Merlin, if the incubus was here, in Draco’s bed.... Draco gulped. Or tried to, anyway. He couldn’t get his throat to work. The incubus’ hand was slowly stroking his chest. He was barely touching him but the pressure on Draco’s lungs was strong. He was only vaguely aware of the creature stripping him of his sheets, exposing him; he was too busy trying to breathe and could barely gasp in enough air. Draco started to feel warmer and warmer.

He came back to his mind when he felt the hand lifted from his chest and a lungful of air whooshed in. The momentary relief died when he realized the incubus wasn’t done with him at all. It was even worse because now he was fully awake and aware of the presence spreading his legs with its magic; it had to be with magic, since Draco wasn’t able to snap them closed no matter how much he willed them to. Choking noises rose from his throat in panic as he struggled in vain. He squeezed his eyes shut and whimpered as he felt a cock thrust into his dry arse. Tears budded from the corners of Draco’s eyes as his body burned from the intrusion. He thrashed helplessly and he could hear laughing in his ear as the incubus pounded into him. The lead blanket was back and he couldn’t scream when the incubus bit the base of his neck so hard it drew blood.

The rape was painful — the incubus whispered that he had made sure it was so — and Draco was sure he would have bruises and marks everywhere by morning. All of this frightened him, but the cruel things the creature was using his body for wasn’t the most terrifying thing of all. What scared Draco most was that, though he knew he was being raped, for some odd reason he was on the verge of an orgasm. It didn’t feel good at  _all_ , and yet he was lying here, begging for release.

When the incubus finally released its sinful seed deep into Draco’s body, the Slytherin came as well, trembling from orgasm and from terror itself, mouth open in a silent scream. He heard the incubus cackle softly in his ear one last time before disappearing into a dark shadow.

Draco lay there, unmoving, as feeling slowly started to creep back into his body. When he finally fell asleep, his dreams were haunted by a smirking face as the rape replayed again and again as he lay there, whimpering and unable to save himself. Sometimes he wasn’t even sure if he wanted to..

xXxXxXx

Draco got up late the next morning feeling tired and sore. He couldn’t quite place the reason he became that way but didn’t let it bother him too much. He froze with his boxers halfway pulled up, looking down at his body. He was covered in blood and come; and under that sticky mess, purple bruises were blooming everywhere. The night’s events came back in a rush.

 _Salazar help me_ , Draco thought, mindlessly grasping at the nearest bed post to keep himself from toppling over. He was a rape victim.  _The Incubus_ ’ rape victim.

Fuck.

Draco was hyperventilating. He wouldn’t even be able to report it like all the other victims; how on earth was he going to get people to believe him after the way he had regarded the matter?

Taking a deep breath, Draco cast a quick cleaning charm on himself and finished dressing, trying to calm himself. He was alright, he rationalized. Rumour had it the incubus only attacked people once. It would leave him alone now and, at this, Draco nodded to himself. He was a Malfoy. He could do this. 

 _Go to breakfast, ignore everyone, go to class, go on with life_ , Draco chanted to himself as he walked to breakfast, not allowing himself to think of anything else. He needed to appear to everyone else as the same as any other day: calm Malfoy mask, tiny swagger to his steps, minions by his side.

It worked to the extent that Draco didn’t need to hesitate as he walked through the doors of the Great Hall. He was halfway to the Slytherin table when it happened. He saw Granger standing a few paces away, in his path and talking to Potter. He was about to walk up to the two and give them a insult — it had always managed to brighten his day — when Potter turned around, as if sensing Draco behind him.

Potter caught his eye and stared. The incubus took full reign of Potter’s face and Draco was once again faced with the pale-skinned demon from the night before. Black holes for eyes, skin abnormally pale. The only trait that set it different from regular incubi this time was its round, wire-rimed glasses.

Round, wire-rimed glasses?

 _Potter’s_  glasses?

Draco started hyperventilating again. He couldn’t face Potter, knowing who he was now. Potter was never recognized during the attacks; each victim only saw the creature, and they only saw it once. But Potter showed his true face now, to Draco and Draco only. That could only mean one thing: Potter wasn’t done with him yet.

Somewhere deep inside of Draco, a little voice decided to point out the idea of Potter taking control of him like the night before aroused him as much as it scared him and Draco was very, very scared.

Frightened and disgusted with himself, Draco turned and ran from the Hall. He could hear Potter yelling “Malfoy!” over and over behind him as he pushed through the flood of people. Draco didn’t care. He had to get away before he broke down completely. Whether he was going to break down from fear or lust, he couldn’t be sure.

Finally ducking into one of the less frequented boy’s bathroom, Draco allowed himself to collapse. He leaned on one of the porcelain sinks for support and in a desperate attempt to stop his trembling. What kind of sick fuck was he, enjoying rape? Draco had never been one for masochism and the pain from last night hadn’t felt pleasurable at all. To be quite honest, he had no bloody idea how he could be so terrified — shaken to the bone, in fact — and yet his cock was as hard as ever. “Traitor,” He mumbled, looking down at the bulge in his pants. He raised his head, drawing in a deep but shaky, breath, when he felt a presence behind him. Draco’s eyes grew wide in horror and he whipped around.

The incubus stood there, in the doorway. Now that Draco knew it was Potter, he could recognize Potter’s face enhancing the features of the dark creature. This did nothing to soothe him.

“St-stay away from me!” Draco’s voice shook as he tried to back away. The hard edges of the sink pressed painfully into his back.

Potter merely looked at him, stalking forward slowly, a smug look adorning his face as Draco tried to put as much distance between them as possible. 

“Don’t come any closer!” He winced as his voice cracked halfway through the sentence.

Potter ignored him, continuing forward. The room seemed to get colder as he neared Draco.

Shaken to his very core and seeing his words had no effect whatsoever on the creature, Draco fumbled for his wand. He pointed the stick of Hawthorn straight at Potter’s chest. “I-I’ll c-curse you, P-Potter!”

Potter stopped just a few yards away. Draco deflated slightly with relief and nearly took a deep breath, but it was hard enough trying to breathe normally though the tension between the two of them. A few agonizing seconds ticked by, neither boy moving. Potter’s face was looking more and more like that of the boy Draco had known before all this.  _It’ll be alright now_ , Draco reassured himself,  _the creature’s leaving. I can see it._  He started to lower his wand, not that it would have made a great difference. His hand was trembling so badly it would have been impossible to aim.

The second Draco’s wand dropped, Potter’s eyes glanced down at the bulge in Draco’s pants —quite unbelievably, he was still hard — and his lips turned up even more, creating a deadly, wicked smirk. Draco panicked, whipping up his wand and shooting a stunner. The incubus dashed out of the way, bringing his own wand out and throwing a few hexes of his own. Draco tried to fight back, cursing the speed of the creature when he felt a slashing curse cut into side. Damn it, why did Potter like to cut him up so much? And in bathrooms, of all places? The déjà-vu of the moment distracted Draco enough for a freezing charm to hit him so hard he fell onto his back, unable to move. 

~x~ 

Harry walked out from behind the wall he had ducked behind during their little duel. He stood there for a moment, basking in the sight of Malfoy as he lay unmoving, a plethora of bloody water surrounding him. The Slytherin’s face was scrunched up in pain, a few tears — or was that just water? — trailing down his face.

“Your pain is so beautiful,” Harry whispered from his spot next to the other boy. Malfoy whimpered — the only sound he could make under the charm — and he sighed; it was such a pity he couldn’t just leave Malfoy like this. There would be talk of shutting down the school if the evidence of attacks came out, much like the time with the basilisk. Besides, Malfoy would probably die, the weakling he was, and Harry couldn’t have that. He still wanted to play with his toy, after all.

A dozen ideas of ways they could ‘play’ sprung into his mind, causing Harry to lick his lips as he crouched down next to the blond.

He reached out with his wand, using his wizard magic to heal Malfoy’s wounds until he was just out of mortal danger. When this was done, Harry swung a leg across Malfoy’s hips, securely pinning him down before removing the freezing charm. Malfoy finally lifted his head, looking straight at him with a panicked face.

“No...” he breathed quietly. Still, Harry heard him.

He leaned forward to speak in Malfoy’s ear. “Malfoy, I’m going to fuck you,” a smirk played across his lips when he felt the boy under him shiver as his breath caressed the pale skin. “You’re going to pleasure me. And when I’m done with you, you’ll come back for more. When I’m done with you, you’ll  _want_ it.” Harry grinned wickedly, reached a hand behind himself, and stroked the ever-hardening bulge in Malfoy’s pants. “Or maybe you already do.”

Malfoy whimpered, but squeaked once Harry undid the fastenings of his trousers and slipped one hand inside, using the other to stroke the Slytherin’s pale neck. “Tell me, Malfoy,  _do_  you want it?”

“Yes... I... I want it.”

xXxXxXx 

The Christmas holiday wasn’t passing fast enough for Draco. He had always looked forward to his return to Malfoy Manor, but this was torture. The reason? Potter. Harry  _fucking incubus_  Potter. In the days that followed the morning in the boys’ bathroom, Potter had fucked him at least once a day. Each time was rough, painful, and usually caused him wounds of some sort; Potter had had to heal him with his wand if he didn’t want anyone to notice. Despite all of the pain, the regularity of the fucking got to the point where Draco got ridiculously squirmy and anxious if he hadn’t had Potter inside him that day by the time dinner came around. It was sickening to think about, but Draco couldn’t help it. He was addicted to Harry Potter like some muggle on drugs.

He supposed it was for the best though, this separation. It was a bit unnerving to think he was fuck buddies with an incubus and an incubus who happened to also be the one person who had tormented him all these years. Fuck buddies? Draco gave a bitter laugh. Fuck  _toy_  was more like it.

 _Yes, this separation is a good thing_ , Draco tried to convince himself.  _Just think of all the things you love about Christmas at the Manor_. And that brought him to where he was now, curled up on his bed the first night of Christmas hols, scratching out a pitiful attempt at a list of reasons to convince himself why spending the holiday could be enjoyable without being fucked by an incubus. After all, he had always enjoyed the Holidays — his seventh year excluded, for obvious reasons — right?

· _Seeing my parents_  
· _Picking out presents for Pansy and Blaise_  
· _The food_  
· _Opening presents_  
· _Helping Mother decorate_  
· _Sleeping in  
_ · _Walks in the snow_

Draco sighed, looking down at the short list. He had been at it for hours now and _still_ he couldn’t help but keep thinking about Potter. It was all so confusing. His every thought, his every idea, his every feeling was about _him_. What he wouldn’t give to have a careless Christmas like the ones he took for granted as a child. Still, a careless Christmas was a Potter-free Christmas and Draco didn’t like that idea even more. He groaned. _Where the hell did this infatuation come from?_ He thought to himself and slipped the parchment and quill onto his nightstand and burrowed into his blankets, trying to clear his mind of thoughts of Potter and falling deep asleep...

_Someone was touching him. He noticed he was naked and lying on his back, a strange idea to his mind as he had been wearing black silken pyjamas when he went to bed and he had always preferred sleeping on his side. Then the touches came again and all thoughts about sleeping habits went flying out the window._

_Nimble fingers were running up and down his chest and arms, pressing harder as time passed. There were a few huffs of breath on his over-sensitized skin, leaving tingling in its wake. A pair of hot, wet lips was biting down on his skin, nipping him in all of his sensitive places. His collarbone. Just under his bellybutton. The inside of his thigh._

_He threw his head back with a gasp, baring his throat to the other. A lick to his jugular brought forth a moan from him. His master seemed to understand, licking his throat once again before pulling the skin into his mouth and sucking hard on it. He was finding that the longer his master sucked, the harder it was for him to breathe. Yet he wanted it so badly, letting out groans of pleasure with what little air he had left._

_The fingers were moving lower now. They caressed his hips, his thighs, the backs of his knees. Only it wasn’t a caress. The growing pressure on top of him was bordering on painful, to be exact, but he had grown used to it. Pain was the prelude to pleasure, now. He spread his legs, silently inviting the other to come closer. His breaths became pants as he felt the fingers finally,_ finally _, touched his cock after so long of torment. ‘Please,’ he wanted to beg. He moaned wantonly as the fingers squeezed him, just a little too hard._

_There was a weight on his chest and he could feel his master coming inside him and he whined at the lack of moving hands. He was so close — just short of going over the edge. He tried to draw enough air to call out to his master, to ask him to finish him off too..._

And then he woke up.

 

xXxXxXx

Ron and Hermione had their arms entwined so tightly it was impossible for either of them to walk away from the other more than a step. Harry walked alongside his two friends, silent compared to their continuous chatter. A tiny smile curved his lips, although it was not the happy smile he used to wear, nor was it the wicked smirk he donned quite a bit more nowadays. It was more of a bland smile, one used to convince the world he was still their Golden Boy, life was treating him well, thank you, and no, there was no need to ask him how he was.

Harry watched as his classmates boarded the train. Ginny Weasley was leaning out of a compartment window already, waving to Luna Lovegood as the dreamy-faced girl walked through the barrier with her father.

“Harry, mate, you coming?” He turned around to see Ron and Hermione a few paces away, just about to board the train themselves.

“Yeah,” He replied, following behind Hermione.

As they walked down the aisle, looking for an empty compartment for them, Harry caught sight of Malfoy. The blond was paler; his silky locks looked limp even though he attempted to style it the same way. When he turned to put his trunk in the overhead compartment, Harry could see that his eyes looked bloodshot and sunken. He seemed drastically thinner and greyer too, as if he was tired and malnourished compared the last time Harry had seen him, which was quite a feat seeing as Malfoy hadn’t looked very healthy then either.

Harry’s smile quirked into a real smirk as he watched Malfoy, looking uncomfortable, walk awkwardly to the window seat.

“What are you looking at, Harry?” Hermione asked, trying to peek out from behind Harry to see why he had stopped.

“It’s nothing,” Harry replied smoothly, turning away from the compartment door and leading his friends away.

The train ride went by quickly, as always, and soon the members of the trio were hurriedly pulling their trunks down the aisle, eager to find a carriage to themselves before they were all taken. As they passed the eighth-year Slytherin’s compartment, the door slid open, revealing no other than Draco Malfoy. The blond froze at the sight of Harry, who had stopped walking behind his friends once he saw the door open. Malfoy’s eyes were wild and he was shaking; before anyone could register what was going on, he leapt at Harry.

“Draco!” Pansy shrieked, yanking on her friend’s left arm back while Blaise took his right. “Ignore him!”

“Trying to jump me, _Draco_?” Harry taunted, leaning forward and withdrawing quickly as Malfoy started tried to lunge again at the sound of his given name.

“Master,” Malfoy whispered, his voice sounding pleading but raspy and overused. _Those dreams must have made him scream more than I thought._

Harry quirked an eyebrow, but turned and left before his friends could miss him, leaving Malfoy behind him, struggling in his friends’ restraining arms.

xXxXxXx

_“Religious tradition holds that repeated intercourse with an incubus may result in the deterioration of health, or even death.”_

xXxXxXx

No matter how hard Harry tried not to look at Malfoy from across the hall during breakfast the first day back from break, he couldn’t do it. His incubus side kept trying to pull him towards the Slytherin. So strange, considering how quickly the urge was always sated with anyone else.

”He looks different, don’t you think? Draco,” Hermione commented curiously as she lifted her head from a book and followed her friend’s eyes, “He looks almost ill." 

Harry looked up at Malfoy, who was squirming in his seat more than he was eating. It caused him to think back to what Malfoy had looked like on the train. Harry knew how painful it must be for Malfoy, being sent dreams that teased him but wouldn’t let him find release. Unless the incubus that claimed him was to allow it, Malfoy wasn’t allowed to come, nor was his erection allowed to soften. The half-limp way that he walked must have been the results of failed wanks and cold showers. And with dreams plaguing him night after night like that, it would be impossible to catch even a wink of sleep. One could only imagine the pain the persistent erection would be, combined with the added agony of sleepless nights and lack of food. It was a miracle Draco hadn’t killed himself.

And the dreams were so realistic, too. The desperate sexual need would have driven him insane and an insane mind is easily bent to one’s will. Malfoy’s worsened appearance was a price to pay, but Harry had needed to make sure the boy didn’t regain his mind and leave him. That would be unacceptable. Harry didn’t know why, but the incubus was calling out for him to bind Malfoy to it. It wouldn’t do for all of his previous work to be undone.

“Yeah, he does,” Harry replied, feigning nonchalance. “I wonder what happened.”

“Well, we have Double Potions now with the Slytherins,” Ron pointed out, turning around to stare. “Maybe we’ll hear what’s going on.”

“Ron, even none of his friends look like they know what happened.” And it was true. Malfoy’s usual gang of minions was eyeing him inquisitively while Pansy Parkinson was trying to mother hen him into eating _something_. Blaise’s mouth was open, and from the way he frowned and slapped the table, one could infer that he was demanding answers and only receiving shakes of the head.

“Well then,” Hermione huffed at Ron, “if Malfoy’s friends don’t know, what makes you think it’s our business?”

“Because we’ve always stuck our nose into his business?” Ron snickered, wincing as his girlfriend whacked him on the head with her spoon. 

“I agree with Hermione,” Harry cut in. If Ron and Hermione started prying into the situation behind Malfoy’s change in appearance, then his secret would be in jeopardy. “It’s not like sixth year when he looked like this. He wouldn’t be able to pull something dangerous like that off anymore.”

“Fine, whatever you say, mate. You finished? Don’t want to be late first day back.”

“I am,” Harry replied, looking over to Hermione, who nodded her agreement.

It was a writing day in Potions, which was a rare and unappreciated event for Slughorn’s classes. “Read the theories on pages 251, 413, 210, and 499 and write me four feet on how they apply to the brewing of Dragon Tonic.” The class groaned. “Now, now, don’t be like that. I’ll give the person with the best essay an extra fifty house points.” Slughorn smiled as students finally started, albeit grudgingly, reaching for and flipping through their textbooks.

Harry quickly glanced to his right where Malfoy was pulling his book towards him so slowly it seemed like he was about to collapse if he moved any more. Ripping off a strip of his parchment, he scrawled a quick note and tossed it behind Hermione and across the aisle separating them.

 _Meet me later?_  
_I’ll make you feel_ s _o much better.  
__X_

He knew the exact moment Malfoy finished reading his note. The other boy’s breath hitched and he glanced up quickly before looking back down, rereading the words like he couldn’t believe they were actually there. Malfoy gulped and let out a shaky breath. Harry recognizes his lack of answer not as nervousness, but rather, restraint. He turned back to his textbook without waiting for a reply.

After all, Draco needed him. He wouldn’t be able to refuse.

xXxXxXx

Draco walked to the Room of Requirement quietly. He had had to dodge Blaise and Pansy’s questions about his actions on the train all day and was happy to have finally escaped the two. Even though his need was great, he couldn’t get caught; that would only result in having to wait even longer, and Draco was sure he would rather die than wait any longer. But the moment he stepped onto the seventh floor hallway, he could feel his Master’s presence. Draco’s heart leapt and he shut his eyes as he approached the blank wall, bathing in his Master’s aura.

 _I need the Room of Hidden Things. I need the Room of Hidden things. I need the Room of Hidden things._ The door appeared. _I guess the room still works even after the Fiendfire_.

Draco felt a shift in his Master’s feelings. His Master could feel him as well now and was pleased. The room was dark; the only source of light was an eerie blue glow shining from some abandoned object he couldn’t see. Draco nibbled on his bottom lip, his nerves finally getting to him, and navigated through the towers of random objects, following the pull in his chest that led him to his master. He stepped out from behind a box and caught sight of him standing a few feet away.

 _Oh_ , his Master was treating him to a smile. It was still a small yet wicked and dangerous one, but any type of smiles were rare — it was always smirks. The smile dropped quickly, however, and was replaced by an icy façade similar to the ones Draco wore himself what seemed like a long time ago.

“Master,” Draco whispered, moving forward and sinking to his knees. “Let me please you.” He opened his Master’s trousers, keeping his eyes locked on his Master’s face for any sign of rejection. His Master had transformed back into the incubus again, looking straight ahead with cold indifference. Draco didn’t like it. It made him nervous.

His fumbling fingers finally manage to open his Master’s trousers. He nuzzles the line of hair leading from the bottom of his Master’s shirt and coiling around the beautiful cock jutting out proudly in front of him. Draco breathes in deeply, his Master’s scent is a release in itself, a pleasure that had been long denied and was now finally his. He turned his head and leaned forward to place an open-mouthed kiss on his Master’s cock.

He looked up tentatively, hoping for a pleased reaction from his master. There wasn’t any. This doesn’t discourage Draco, however. He’s determined to make his Master scream out in ecstasy.

He took a swipe with his tongue at the fluid gathered at the tip. It’s salty and liquid fire seemed to run through his veins. Emboldened, Draco plunged his mouth down around the head. His Master cried out and then thrust his hips, pushing deeper into Draco’s mouth.

Draco wrapped his fist around the base of his Master’s cock and slowly eased his mouth down the shaft, taking in as much as he can. His Master’s cock is another release for him as he licked it like a lollipop before swallowing it whole, trying not to gag. His Master thrusts again and when he saw that it didn’t bother Draco, he plunged deeper, faster into Draco’s mouth. Draco allowed him, hollowing his cheeks for better suction. His master groaned, threw his head back, and came explosively in Draco’s mouth. He happily drank it all.

“You’ve done well, Malfoy,” his Master said. “You’ve earned your release.”

Draco shivered in anticipation, looking up at his Master, who had moved to sit on a bench nearby and was currently pulling his shirt off.

“Strip,” his Master commanded. Draco was naked in less than a minute. “Come here.

He did as told, his breath hitching as he watched his Master’s cock swell once again. His master yanked him down onto his lap, reaching quickly behind him to shove a finger into his arse, causing Draco to cry out. His Master added another finger, twisting them. Draco pushed down, fucking himself onto his Master’s fingers. “Please, Master,” he rasped. “Let me ride you.”

His Master nodded, removing his fingers to conjure lube to slick his cock — not for Draco’s comfort, he knew, but for easier movement for his Master — before pulling Draco up by his hips and yanking him down onto his Master’s cock. Draco made a guttural sound, squeezing his eyes shut and throwing his head back. His Master thrust up into him, grunting with pleasure as Draco was slowly reduced to nothing more than a writhing, needy creature. A few moments later and the world went white as orgasm hit them both. Draco vaguely registered climbing off of his Master before collapsing into a deep sleep on the floor. 

Draco woke up the next morning, feeling disoriented but well-rested, compared to the past few weeks. As he stretched, his fingers brushed a crumpled piece of paper. “Wha?”

 _Next Hogsmeade weekend._  
  
_Meet me at The Three Broomsticks._

The night’s events came rushing back. “Fuck!” he cursed, searching for his wand. When he finally found it buried under his robes, he cast a tempus. Only ten minutes left of breakfast. Barely enough time to _scourgify_ himself and dress. He didn’t even have his books with him.

“Well, double fuck.”

xXxXxXx

After waking up in the Room of Requirement Draco had felt as if someone had dumped a bucked of ice water over his head and lifted a veil from in front of his eyes. There was still that pull, that urge, to seek out his Mas— _Potter_ , he carefully reminded himself — but Draco managed to keep it under control, now that he was sleeping and eating normally again.

The best part, however, was the dreams didn’t return. He still dreamed about Potter and their encounters, but they must have been products of his own mind, as he could always satisfy himself with a morning wank. Time passed quickly and soon Draco found himself facing the door to The Three Broomsticks, fidgeting nervously and trying to fight the instinct that tried to convince him to go in.

Eventually he gave in, pushing open the door and when he didn’t see Potter, walked in. _I spoke too soon_ , he thought; he was only three steps in before Draco saw _him_.

Potter stood there by a booth, in the process of pulling off his cloak when he caught Draco’s eye. The brunet’s eyes turned into dark, ruthless holes, his expression expectant. _Master_ , he thought involuntary before mentally bashing himself for it. The pull between them was so strong it was painful just to breathe. Draco froze, terrified, before turning around and doing what any other Slytherin would have done in an act of self-preservation.

He ran.

~x~

Harry felt his body revert back to human form while Draco fled. Disappointment and anger raged through him. How _dare_ his toy defy him! He had thought he had successfully bound Malfoy to him, that night in the Room of Requirement. He had calculated everything, from the dreams and insanity to the sex. Harry had thought the dreams weren’t needed anymore since he had Malfoy’s mind under his control. But just now, there was a spark of fight in Malfoy, a resistance stretched thin but still there. _That_ was the last barrier. Narrowing his eyes, Harry slipped his cloak back on and returned to Hogwarts.

He found Malfoy just inside Hogwarts’ gates, facing a tree with his head down and eyes squeezed shut. He appeared to be having an internal war over whether or not to bash his head against said tree.

“Malfoy!” Harry growled, only a foot away and furious at the lack of acknowledgement from the other boy.

Malfoy jumped, biting his lower lip to keep from making a scared noise as he turned around. So he really hadn’t noticed Harry. He would be punished for that, but this was not the time. “P-Potter.”

“Malfoy, listen and listen closely,” Harry hissed, his incubus powers flaring and lashing out. Malfoy took an involuntary step back as the magic wrapped and bound him. “You belong to _me_. You belong to no one else, and that includes yourself. I own you, Draco Malfoy, body, mind, and soul. You follow _my_ orders.” Malfoy was trembling now, as the magic tore at his last thread of sanity. “You have one last chance. Midnight and not a minute later, outside the Room of Requirement. You can let me have you of your own free will, or I’ll find you and I’ll _force_ you.” And with that, he turned and walked away, his cloak billowing behind him dramatically in a swift, Snape-worthy movement.

xXxXxXx 

_Six…five…four…_

Harry stood outside the stone wall in his incubus form, mouth pulled into a thin line as he counted the seconds left before the clock chimed Midnight. Ah, there he was. Malfoy approached, stepping out of the shadows and into the hallway. The blonde had his fists clenched as if he was struggling with himself.

Harry waited silently, continuing to count.

Draco let out a shaky breath before closing his eyes and bowing his head in submission. “I am yours, Master,” he whispered.

Harry smirked. He had won.

**Author's Note:**

> Watch the companion Fanvid that inspired this fic [HERE]()
> 
> **Please make all comments about the fic on HERE. The fanvid is not mine and therefore I will not see any comments made on the video.**


End file.
